Hope's Renewal
by Someonerandome
Summary: Re-write previously titled "Renewed Hope". Slight AU: When one former jedi reacts to the purges, their choices ripple through the galaxy. How will these changes affect the lives and destinies of our favourite heroes and villains 19 years after the purges? Okay, so I hate writing summaries: the story will hopefully be better than that blurb.


**A/N: So this is actually a re-post. This story was up before as "Renewed Hope" years ago with the intention of making it a trilogy. Now I have the same intention but have gone back and re-written it with some changes and edits, hope you enjoy :)**

**Also, this is a mild AU for the original trilogy: It's a "For Want of a Nail" type of story, or perhaps more of a reverse "It's a Wonderful Life", with one character's choices in the past having helped create a ripple effect. As such there will, obviously, be differences from original cannon. They are intentional, and will eventually be explained, promise :)**

Prologue

**19 BBY**

"Did you hear about the purges?" One of the men at the bar asked his friend.

"Who didn't hear is the better question," his friend replied "Might be for the best. That order wasn't anywhere near what it used to be. Nothing more than jumped-up soldiers with some slight-of-hand—"

"Hey, cut that out you two," The bartender snapped. He was a large man, and while fair he was also tough and burly.

"What's up with you? You have to have heard the news, that cult betrayed the Republic!"

"You mean the Empire," The second customer corrected him

"And what about all those kids, then eh? I got no respect for anyone that murders babies,"

There was a sudden clatter as the young Togruta female who worked across the street on the colony as a mechanic stood at her table and stalked out of the bar, slamming the door behind her as she went.

"What's with her?" the first drinker asked.

"Beats me. She had a funny turn in the shop a day or two ago. Had to go home early," his friend replied

"Strange, isn't she? Not often you see one of her kind on their own these days. Thought they didn't like to be alone or something,"

Ahsoka hadn't heard them however. She couldn't bear to listen to it. She may have turned her back on the Jedi Order a year ago but that had not prevented her from independently maintaining her connection to the Force; she had been as linked to it two days ago as she had been two years ago. She had felt each and every one of her former comrades die. She had felt Master Plo Koon die; the man who had found her, the man who had fondly watched her progress, the only Council Member to apologise to her following her name being cleared. She had felt the younglings die. A group all together, others in their valiant but futile efforts to fight. The Order had been where she belonged once and after leaving it she had been drifting; she no longer belonged to her people. She had tried, briefly, but she would never be more than a visitor. She couldn't fit in there anymore. Her subsequent efforts had been focused on her skills, particularly the mechanical skill she had picked up, skills that were highly employable. After hearing that conversation, however, she was abruptly certain that she wouldn't be able to remain at that garage.

The Togruta stormed into her little room and slammed the door behind her, picking up the water cup on the table and hurling it against the wall with a scream of anguish and anger. She picked up a chair and threw that next, not caring what anyone heard. She destroyed the rest of her room in a fit of bereaved rage that she had been too shocked and too devastated to carry out two days ago. Ahsoka collapsed to her knees with one elbow on her bed, sobbing for all that she was worth. She didn't know how long she stayed there like that. No doubt it was quite some time. After she had cried her tears, however, she felt able to think for the first time in days. The weight of her grief still crushed her, still made it hard to move but it wasn't clouding her mind quite the same way as it had. She didn't feel better after her private outburst, but she was now able to calm herself.

Ahsoka heaved a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve as she pulled herself up to sit on the bed and stare at the floor. She had nowhere to go. No one left. Her people no longer accepted her; she was too hardened a warrior for the pacifist colonists and too individualistic for the Togruta on Shilli. The Order would never be an option again; the one place she had felt as though she belonged before they had turned their back on her. Now it seemed that the decision she had made to leave might have saved her life…or had it? How far would the purges go? Anakin had killed the others, what was to stop her former master from coming after her?

"No," She said aloud to herself "Anakin wouldn't…maybe,"

He'd killed the others. Apparently there was doubt about him surviving a fight with Obi Wan.

Obi Wan.

She tried to remember if she'd felt him die. There had been so many…but what if? Surely not all the Jedi had been killed; they were formidable and resourceful soldiers and spies. She knew that there had to be _some_ of them left, she was almost certain they wouldn't have bested Master Yoda. But the bigger question was, should she care?

Silently Ahsoka got to her feet and took the two steps across the small room to the wall. With a simple manipulation of the Force she removed the secret panel that she had installed and pulled out the box within, moving her orange hand over the top lightly before removing it. Inside were her two lightsabres along with the red outfit she had taken to wearing as a jedi. She might have kept her padawan braid there, too, if she hadn't left it with her former Master.

A scuffling sound caught her attention through the Togruta's keen sense of hearing and her head jerked up. It sounded like Clone Troopers.

The next morning the togruta failed to show up for work. When her boss went looking for her in her room he found the place abandoned and ruined, with no sign of the somewhat mysterious misfit. All that they knew was that she had left enough money on the dresser to cover the rent and her bar tab and never returned. A secret panel was discovered in the wall, but it held no safe, no money. Just an empty box.

**Chapter 1**

**19 Years Later  
>Location: Tattooine<strong>

"Hi there,"

The deep, seductive purr caught Luke Skywalker off-guard and he jumped, bumping his head on the deeply sloping shade-roof of his Aunt and Uncle's market stall. He grunted at the mild pain and rubbed his head as he looked for the source of the all-too-familiar voice. As per usual, his heart leapt up into his throat and formed a rather large and uncomfortable lump there that seemed to somehow create a block between his brain and his mouth the moment he saw the beautiful dancing girl.

In his defence she _was_ stunning. Her dark hair was partially pinned up in an elaborate style with the help of the jeweled blue-silk veil that obscured the lower half of her face which kept some of the thick locks free to flow over her pale, sculpted shoulders. The bikini top matched and covered just enough to leave a small amount of room for the active male imagination to fill in the details, even though it still gave a pretty clear picture. Her flowing skirt had the same effect as it was slit high on both sides so as to leave both long, toned legs completely bare. Luke was never able to talk around her.

"I…uh…h-hi…" he stammered. Purple eyes crinkled when she smiled beneath her veil. She chuckled and leaned in to rest her forearms and elbows on the stall counter.

"You know, I've noticed you around here on Market days before. What do you have in this week?" she asked him. For a moment Luke stared. Then her inquiry fully registered and he became flustered

"Oh! Uh, we have moisture packs and some water and we even have some flowers! Maybe you'd like them! We had a bumper crop last year and my aunt was able to grow some really nice blue ones!" He said as he reached underneath the counter and pulled out what he thought was a small bunch of flowers. The dancer looked at the plants in his hand and raised her eyebrows in amusement. The young man looked down and flushed when he saw the crunchy, dried leafy things he was holding.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking around the little stall with disorientation "These are…herbs…Here we go!"

The youth found the little bunch that he had been talking about earlier and thrust them towards her on the counter. His aunt had made them and attached them to clips and bracelets, hoping to hit just this market. The dancing girl reached out and picked up the little corsage-like bundle delicately with her thumb and forefinger, bringing them up to her veil and inhaling their scent. She put them back down

"They don't smell as sweet as the wildflowers in the canyon," she said wistfully.

"My Aunt Beru does something to them that makes them last longer in the sun or-or something, but it does kinda change the smell a little," Luke said, trying desperately to remember what it was his aunt had told him. He hadn't exactly listened carefully, having been too busy grumbling about being stuck in the stall all day when he could have been watching the pod races with what few school-related acquaintances who hadn't yet managed to get off the stupid dust-ball of a planet that called itself Tattooine. Now he wished that he had paid more attention.

"Maybe we could go to the canyon sometime together…" The dancing girl trailed off suggestively as she leaned in further towards him. Luke froze, his heart hammering in his chest as he stole a quick glance at the collar around her neck. She raised a finely arched eyebrow and followed his gaze briefly before looking back at him, arching that eyebrow even further to a rather impressive angle as she tilted her head in amusement.

"I'm not a slave, you know. I'm on _loan_ to the Hutt. Exquisite _art_. I can go wherever I _want_. Besides, don't you live near Beggar's Canyon?"

"Well, yeah! Our farm's not too far from there. We're just over the ridge. Only farm for miles," Luke told her, eager to please her.

"You've got all those nice, shiny droids…" she leaned in closer, the small jewels along the edge of her veil and sewn into her bikini tinkling slightly with the motion.

"Well, I don't know about _shiny_. We're going to get some new ones the next time the Jawas pass through," Luke told her. It was getting hard to breathe. She even smelled nice. No one smelled nice on Tattooine! What perfume did she manage to get? It was exotic, like her.

"Maybe I should look you up sometime…See what the new toys look like. I never get to go near the ones that Jabba has and I so love R2 units…" she said wistfully.

"I don't know if they'll have any R2 units, but my uncle does want a droid like that for the farm," Luke told her, the hope dripping from his tone and bright blue gaze. The dancers fingers laced together loosely and she tilted her head in another flirtatious way

"You should let me know," she told him with a wink. She straightened and looked around, sighing heavily "Well, I'd better go. See you next market day, young farmer?"

"Y-yeah! You bet!" Luke called after her as she walked away with a little wave, her hips swaying and her translucent, blue, slit skirt swishing with every step. The youth watched her go until she turned a corner at which point there was a hacking cough somewhere at his elbow. He jumped slightly and looked over to see a Toydarian smoking a cigar by his booth. He crinkled his nose in discomfort and waved a hand in front of his face to disperse some of the fumes.

"Ehhh, you gotta no chance, boy," the winged creature told him in a gravelly voice. Luke always marvelled at how the species managed to stay airborne with their tiny wings and massive potbellies. He straightened and put his hands lightly on the counter surface, frowning.

"Hey you don't know that!" the blonde youth flared defensively.

"She'sa dancing girl! Shesa belongs to-a the huts! Besides, whatta would she want with a farm boy like you, ehh? Ha!"

"I'm not going to be a farm boy all my life! You just wait! This year I'm going to go to the academy and get off this stinking sand trap!" Luke exclaimed, the comment about him being nothing but a 'farm boy' striking a much more sensitive nerve then the implication that he couldn't get a date with a dancing girl. The Toydarian let out a sort of hacking scoff and waved his shrivelled blue hand dismissively as he turned and started to flap away, muttering to himself in apparent amusement. Luke frowned after him in irritation before letting out a long, exasperated groan and plonking his head down on the counter.

"Dammit, he's right! I'm never getting outta here!" The youth moaned onto the counter surface. He sighed and straightened, looking around the market place. It was the usual fare of people, many of the same customers that he saw every week. Nothing different. Nothing was ever different. Groups of faces phased in and out rather than actually changing. Nothing ever changed and, he mused, nothing ever would. Well, at least he had new droids to look forward to, not that they'd be likely to have anything interesting about them if his uncle had any say about it.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

888888888888888888888

Purple eyes watched Luke from the shadows for the remainder of the hour as he packed up and prepared to return home early, though he likely would not have recognised the dancing girl he had been attempting to talk to. After he started to head home the young woman leaned back from the window of her hiding place in the rudimentary building, kicking the bag containing the wispy, translucent turquoise silk of her skimpy skirt to the side with impatience. Rolling her shoulders to enjoy the feel of the more comfortable black material of her uniform she reached up to her scalp and peeled back the expert wig, the dark hair sliding off the auburn locks it had concealed and tossed it into the bag along with the skirt. She next reached into section of her belt and removed a small case. Her fingers went to her eyes and she removed the lenses that had turned her green eyes purple whilst also providing her with excellent, computer-enhanced vision. She hadn't needed bulky binoculars or a data pad; the lenses had focused on the farm boy for her, along with all other activity in the square she chose to observe Depending on specific blinking patters, they also brought up information from her data network.

The young woman took a moment to blink several times; returning to her normal color spectrum was both disorienting and relieving at once and she indulged in a few seconds to readjust. Her next brief moment of stolen excess was to re-arrange her hair more presentably with the aid of a small mirror lining the cushioned case for the contact lenses. After being pressed beneath the wig for nearly two weeks her auburn hair was sweat-matted and wispy, and generally just uncooperative. She took it out of its flat, pressed bun and finger-combed it back until it just looked…active? Yes, that was a good word. It looked a little like helmet hair, but didn't look too badly off. The final step was, of course, the ridiculous make up. That she simply removed with a damp cloth and promptly replaced the excessive cosmetics with darker shades of eye make-up reminiscent of smoke and ash that made the green of her irises pop in an what she new to be an unsettling manner. Finally ready, she checked the security alarms she had set up both telepathic and mechanical for a third time and settled into the middle of the abandoned room. The young woman thrilled with anticipation as she retrieved a circular disk-like object from the pocket of the pants she had swapped the skirt for and activated the communicator's device.

The grey and blue image of the cloaked and hooded old man fizzed into focus and the redhead bowed her head in supplication.

"My Lord Emperor," she said in a quiet murmur just in case there was a chance that she was not alone in the building in spite of her precautions.

"_My Hand_," he replied, his creaking tone almost bordering on affectionate. "_What do you have to report to me_?"

"The Hutts have little interest in the Rebellion. Even as far as criminals go the rebels aren't a wise investment. My Lord, may I have your permission to return to one of my previous assignments? There is little for me to do here. The Hutts run their territories as they always have with no signs of advancing into Imperial affairs and they keep enough order in their sectors. I recommend leaving them for the time being,"

There was a pause while the Emperor considered what she had said and then the visible lower half of his face stretched into his leering smile

"_Excellent work. You have again proven your value to the Empire,"_

Her heart soared at the compliment, green eyes lighting up. She ducked her head in a show of humility and subservience.

"You honor me, Master," she murmured. The image of the sith lord nodded once before the smile disappeared from his face to be replaced by a more serious expression.

"_Is there anything else to report? The matter of the droids have been tracked to your planetary location,_" the gravelly voice demanded.

"Understood, My Master. I may have a lead on that matter," she told him. She felt her heart pound in nervous anticipation, her need to please her master practically pulsing through her veins and heating her face. "There is a farmboy who has a stall on the market. They plan on getting droids from the Jawas. The Hutts do not have the droids, but if they landed on the dunes the Jawas might have picked them up. They're notorious vultures. We can have raids conducted on their caravans promptly,"

"_Excellent work, my Hand, _excellent_ work_," he purred. Her heart soared. The blue-tinted hologram lifted his wrinkled, flappy chin a fraction.

"_These…farmers, are they of any interest?" _he enquired.

"They are nobodies. Moisture farmers from the Chott Salt Flatt. They pay their taxes, mind their own business and their nephew has been wanting to join the academy for the three years since he came of age,"

"_Their nephew?" _The Emperor enquired "_From the Salt Flatt? What is their name?"_

"Lars, my Master," she told him, blinking slightly at his tone. She was surprised at the sudden shift in his tone and it worried her. Had she failed him?

"_Is he a relation of the Lars wife or the husband_?" the Emperor demanded.

"I…don't know. He's only just managed to speak more than two words to me, but his surname is different. Apart from being the same species and approximate ethnicity, they don't look much alike," She said with a disdainful snort. "Should I increase my efforts?"

There was another slight pause as the emperor considered for a moment.

"_No_," he said after a brief moment "_The escaped droids have been confirmed to have landed on Tattooine. They carry information that the Rebels seek. Find these droids and bring them to me_,"

"Understood, my Master," the woman stated dutifully with another deep bow of her head, listening to the static that briefly aired when the Emperor terminated the transmission from his end. When she looked up the image of the hooded man had vanished and she pressed a button to deactivate the device before replacing it in its previous hiding place. She shrugged on her black jacket over top the black shirt and pulled the zipper up to the top of her neck and pulled up a meshed black scarf over her nose and mouth; she needed to preserve her anonymity for undercover work, after all. By the time she left the abandoned building through the alleyway few if any would have recognised her as the dancing girl (or anyone at all for that matter) if they had been paying attention and fortunately enough—for the citizens of Tattooine at least—no one had. Not that they would be likely to challenge her with such an ominous-looking metallic device fastened to her belt that was so reminiscent of the feared Darth Vader's weapon.

Making her way to the nearest imperial garrison presented no difficulty or impediments. People made way for her much more quickly than they had when she had been a mere dancing girl. The dancer they had ogled but not dared to touch for fear of Hutt reprisal; if a dancing girl had been allowed out into the streets she must be a dear favourite indeed or perhaps even on an errand for her master that required persuasion of a more sensuous kind than the Hutt thugs were normally wont to use. With her black clothing, blaster and boot, however, no one ogled and no one sneered. Whispers were fearful in the wake of such a clear Imperial. They all backed away quickly and bowed their heads, an entirely different form of intimidation settling in. This fear held fast with the soldiers at the garrison, though it manifested with far more utility. When the woman arrived at the gate all she needed to do was flash them the palm of her leather glove with its red insignia on it and they all threw her a salute, tripping over themselves with their confused 'sirs' and 'mams'.

"Milady!" The Storm Trooper Commander spluttered as he snapped into a salute when she stalked into the room with her palm out, using the force to move everyone out of her way when they didn't do it quickly enough themselves. She lowered her hand casually and trailed her fingers along the side of the holographic map of the area.

"Good morning, commander," She greeted brusquely.

"My Lady Hand," he stammered in response "To what do we owe—"

"Dispense with the flattery, I have little use for it," she informed him shortly. The slight edge of disappointment in her Master's voice when she had failed to give him the name of the Lars' boy put her into a sour mood. She had misjudged the importance of the mission, had thought it to be a test of how many people she could keep an eye on at once, that perhaps he wanted to know about the farmer, not the boy! But no, no excuses. Any failure was intolerable as far as she was concerned.

She looked at the map below her with a sweeping mental appraisal before turning her attention on the intimidated commander

"By order of our Emperor I am temporarily relieving you of command. I want checkpoints set up outside each entrance to the city and every incoming vessel searched. If a ship enters the area I want to know if its pilot so much as sneezes. Leave the petty smugglers to the Hutts. I'm not wasting my time with them,"

She had spent weeks keeping tabs on the petty smugglers. There was little interesting about them and none around at the moment who showed any interest in the rebellion.

"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am," the Commander said with a brusque nod, glancing at the glove of her hand and remembering the insignia she had emblazoned on it. No one argued with one of the Emperor's hands, especially not this one. Her reputation preceded her; she was just slightly less intimidating than Tarkin, but with Vader-like voodoo powers.

"I want the movements of the Jawas tracked," she commanded.

"Right away ma'am,"

"I also want all the R2 units on the planet confiscated along with all the protocol droids. Don't bother the Hutts, they don't have them so don't waste your time,'

"How do you kn—" the commander started before he could catch himself

"None of your concern, commander." She snapped "You have your orders. Now follow them before I lose my patience!"

The soldier nodded and quickly headed off to carry out the masked-woman's orders. Storm Troopers trooped around her, barking orders at their inferiors and hurrying about to implement the measures she had ordered. Already one of them had accessed the computer system of the docking bay. She pressed a few buttons on the console in front of her, briefly glancing at a list of ships docked and snorting at the lofty claims of one particularly run-down-looking model. Fastest ship in the galaxy indeed! Finding it of little importance the woman pressed another few buttons, prompting the computer to project an image in front of her. The Emperor's Hand straightened and tilted her head to the side slightly to look at it.

A pair of droids fizzed translucently in front of her. One was a humanoid design with gold-plated coverings and stiff, mechanically jointed limbs. He had one gold hand resting on the helm of a significantly shorter droid whose blue-striped domed headpiece continually swivelled so that the light that vaguely resembled a sort of eye stared around it. They appeared to be perfectly ordinary pieces of machinery. The Hand's green eyes narrowed slightly as she tapped her finger on the console with idle impatience, her voice taking on a pensive tone as she looked at the picture.

"What's so important about you, then, I wonder?"

* * *

><p>So there we have chapter one. Just a little introteaser, next chapter we see a few more of the characters you know and love! Drop me a review, perhaps? I love feedback!


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